Strings
by YouBuyMeOrangeJuice
Summary: This oneshot just kind of came out of nowhere after I couldn't stop watching their first scene in 501 or stop listening to 'Strings' by MS MR. Future Gail & Holly.


**A/N: **Not really sure where this came from. I just couldn't stop watching their first scene in 501 or listening to 'Strings' by MS MR. This one shot happened. The future. Per usual I own nothing but the mistakes.

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Holly forced a smile as she paid the babysitter. Mary threw on her coat before bundling her scarf high around her ears. She only lived three doors down but it was particularly cold that night, even for winter in Toronto. Holly could have sworn Mary gave her a perplexed look when she walked through the front door alone, but thankfully she didn't say anything about it. Holly checked upstairs to confirm with her own eyes that the little ones were, indeed, blissfully asleep and took the opportunity to change into a thick loose sweater and extra warm leggings.

After descending the stairs only to be greeted by a quiet and empty house Holly busied herself in the kitchen. Well, she tried to busy herself in the kitchen. Unfortunately for Holly's twitchy hands there wasn't much to be done. The dishwasher had been unloaded before Mary arrived, who dutifully filled it with dishes that were dirtied under her watch. There was no food left out, no pots or pans to be cleaned. Mary was an intelligent, kind, and proactive young lady and right now Holly hated her for it. A pot caked in burned rice would be perfect. She'd be able to scrub at that for nearly an hour.

Holly decided to take advantage of the completely cleared counter to scrub it down. She squatted in front of the sink and rooted the cleaner for the butcher block from the back of the cabinet, only banging the bottle on the sink's drain pipe once. She grabbed a cloth before rising to standing and got to work. The center island was a sizable countertop and Holly reasoned that the oak probably wasn't as cared for as it should be. The cleaner smelled good-better than the stuff she had to use in the morgue- sort of like oranges with a little kick.

When her arm was finally worked to a point of exhaustion and she really couldn't justify scrubbing one more inch any longer, Holly decided her task was finished. She guessed she'd just have to wait it out. Holly opened the fridge, looking for something she could nosh on, something to occupy her hands, something she could chew loudly so that the sound might drown out the worry that was engulfing her mind. She pulled open the vegetable crisper and laid her eyes on the carrots. Carrots were loud. Definitely one of the loudest things you could eat. She grabbed the bag out of the drawer and plopped herself down on one of the kitchen stools, well within earshot to hear the door open, no matter how quiet Gail might try to be.

That wasn't an issue though, as not five minutes later Gail burst through the door. She didn't slink, or creep, or slither; she burst.

"Hey," Holly greeted Gail with noticeable relief as she stood from the stool. "Mary got the kids to sleep."

Gail hadn't bothered to take off her shoes or winter coat, opting instead to make a beeline toward the glassware with the speed and nervous energy of a buzzing wasp's nest. The tips of her ears and nose were red from the cold.

"You hungry?" Holly tried to keep her voice light and casual but she was worried. It had been painfully obvious to her how little Gail had eaten at dinner.

"Nope," Gail quickly pulled down a glass from the cabinet and set it on the counter before scurrying off to the other end of the room, "I only want alcohol."

"Why don't you eat something first?" They'd been down this road before and Holly didn't think she liked where Gail was headed.

"Yeah, okay," Gail was up on her tiptoes, scanning the collection of bottles in the top cabinet, finally spying the clear one she was looking for, "if it's got alcohol in it."

Holly went over the fridge anyways, pulling out a tray of leftover homemade mac and cheese. "You okay?"

Holly's voice was blossoming with concern and Gail tried to push it aside. It blanketed the entire room, but Gail didn't want that now. She couldn't have that now. Not if she didn't want to completely breakdown.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she answered, as she unscrewed the top of the bourbon bottle, "it's not like I'm the one who's dying."

"Gail," Holly's voice was pure concern, sprinkled with a plea to get real. She turned away from the counter just in time to see Gail swallow down what was left of a generous pour.

Gail winced slightly as she gulped, forcing the last bit of burn down her throat. "You know what though? You're right," Gail motioned tightly with her now empty glass, "she's too mean to die. She's just stirring up attention and sympathy before getting to be the righteous hero once again."

Holly could only whip her head around and follow Gail with her eyes as she trudged up the stairs, clutching her glass full of bourbon.

"Well that went well," Holly mumbled quietly to herself as she scraped her thumbnail against the counter top, clearing it of a piece of dirt that she knew wasn't there. She let out a deep sigh. That did not go as well as she had hoped it might. But then again, she reasoned that it might have gone a whole lot worse.

Holly reached for a carrot, chomping down extra aggressively. The loud crunch was satisfying, but the taste was less than so. These would not do. Holly popped the other half in her mouth as she zipped the bag closed and tossed it back in the fridge, wasting no time in getting a large mixing bowl down from the cabinet. She knew Gail needed some time, and at least Holly knew Gail wouldn't be getting frostbite upstairs, which had been a serious concern of her's while Gail was wandering around the neighborhood. Just because Holly knew, and respected, that Gail needed to process the news alone didn't mean she had to like it. Knowing Gail needed space didn't mean giving it to her had to thrill Holly.

She turned on the oven before she got the eggs and butter out of the fridge. Baking was science and science was predictable. If she followed the recipe and set the oven to the right temperature and baked for the prescribed amount of time she knew what the result would be. It would be good. Holly could not say the same for Gail. Gail was anything but a science. Holly loved her. That was a fact. Actually, completely adored her was more like it. But Gail was not predictable, and that's why, thirty minutes later, Holly opened the door to their ensuite bathroom slowly and with measured caution.

"Hey," Holly offered a quiet greeting that was as nonintrusive as possible. She poked her head and shoulder through the door, keeping most of her body on the other side of the threshold. Holly surveyed the scene. Gail was staring hard into the mirror, her hands braced against the sink, elbows locked out. She looked down to the glass resting next to Gail's hand. It was still over half full, which meant Gail hadn't actually drunk that much after she tornado-ed through the kitchen.

"Hi." Gail didn't take her eyes off the mirror, her voice small and distant.

Holly took this as her cue and opened the door just enough to slide into the room. She moved slowly over towards the tub before sitting down on the edge so as not to box Gail in. Holly looked on, her head cocked warmly to the side, her eyes glowed with concern as she pulled her arms close into her stomach while she waited.

Gail spoke up a few moments later, still keeping her eyes trained to the mirror. "I have her eyes, you know."

"I do," Holly nodded, a small, crookedly sad smile peeked out of her lips. Gail's eyes were beautifully blue, sometimes bright as a warm summer's sky, and sometimes as chilled as an iceberg. And Gail was right, they were her mom's. But right now Holly could see that they glowed with a tinge of red, holding back unshed tears.

"And her ears," Gail continued, straightening her back, and removing her hands from the sink and placing them on her hips. She inhaled deeply, puffing her chest out slightly before letting it deflate down. She tugged on her left earlobe for a moment and grabbed her glass off the ledge, slumping down to lean against the wall.

Holly looked on as Gail took a small sip of the amber liquid and swallowed it quickly, lolling her head back against the wall, tipping it back against the cool tile.

"I can't believe I said that," Gail groaned, tipping her head into her hands, rubbing the heals of her palms into her eyes.

"You didn't mean it," Holly countered Gail's admission quickly and calmly, shaking her head, and in turn her long black hair, even though Gail couldn't see.

Holly slid down from the tub's ledge and scooted close enough to place her hand on Gail's knee. She had changed since she stormed through their front door. She'd swapped out her tight black jeans for a pair of Holly's old sweatpants, and her silk blouse for a long sleeved navy police academy cotton tee.

Holly continued to circle her thumb over the grey cotton. She wasn't at all sure on how to proceed. For all their ups and downs this was uncharted territory. Elaine had announced her diagnosis of stage two breast cancer over dinner like it was last year's stocks. Steve had tried to press the issue a little, not ready to relent to his mother's flippant treatment of her illness and impending treatments, but it got him nowhere. This was no doubt, Elaine being strong and stoic. Proud and honorable. Just like that her announcement, and the subsequent nonexistent discussion, was over. Holly could only look on as Gail all but shut down. She watched Bill's obvious internal struggle between the will to respect his wife's wishes and assuage his children's fears and questions.

Although Gail was never overly enthusiastic about stiff dinners with her parents, what was usually a surly distaste quickly shifted to an absent, trance like state. She couldn't do much but observe as Gail made an effort to push her food around her plate, but lifted her fork to her mouth only three times. Holly counted. She and Traci had made eyes at each other across the table, both still slightly perplexed by the inner workings of this family they had married into, both unsure if this was actually their reality, both helpless to do anything to change the course of the evening. Holly knew to be worried when Gail expressed no interest in ordering anything, food or adult beverage, for dessert. The ride home was silent. Gail hopped out of the car just as Holly shifted it into park, declaring that she was 'going for a walk.'

"I never worried about her." Gail lifted her head from her heads, resting it against the wall once again. "She carried a big stick, whatever that Churchill thing was. I've always just seen her as invincible...something out of this world." Gail kicked back another sip of bourbon.

Holly smiled a bit, "I can see why." Really, Elaine Peck bent for no human, corporation, or act of nature. Holly supposed it would be the same for her disease. That attitude was likely to go one of two ways.

Gail held the glass up to Holly, a silent offering, so she took it. She'd do whatever Gail asked of her.

Holly took a sip of the brown liquid, wincing as it burned a trail down her throat. She leaned forward to place the glass down in front of them, well within Gail's reach but not in her hand.

Gail's gaze had fallen to the hand that Holly had firmly and steadily placed on her knee; unwavering. She traced Holly's veins, her knuckles, her cuticles, the tiny tiny hairs on her fingers.

"Hols?"

Gail's eye's peeled up to her. Gosh, she looked so small, so unsure, so young, her eyes near breaking.

"Yeah, babe?"

Holly's voice was soft, and steady, and so so caring. That was all it took.

"I don't want my mom to die." A small gasp followed Gail's words, as if finally saying the words was a realization, an unwanted confirmation of the now very real possibility. And then the tears came as she crumpled into Holly's lap.

"Oh, honey," Holly gathered Gail in her arms as quickly and as best as she could, "I know. I know."

That's all she could really do, keep telling Gail that she knew. She couldn't promise anything. Nothing in life was guaranteed. Saying 'it's okay,' would just be a few hollow words and they both knew that. From the little information Holly had, she knew Elaine hadn't been given a death sentence, but she was sick. Gail was right; she could die.

Holly rubbed Gail's back and combed her fingers slowly through blonde hair. She didn't promise anything, except that she knew. Because she did know. She knew that Gail's relationship with her mother was anything but cookie-cutter. Holly knew that Gail often felt pressured, misunderstood, and intimated by the woman whose eyes she shares. Holly also knew that Elaine loved Gail. Holly knew that everything Elaine did that made Gail want to slink into the shadows was because she wanted the best for her daughter. She knew that Elaine saw all of Gail's strengths, and that she thought by harping on her weaknesses that Gail might stand a real chance at being perfect. She knew that Elaine saw Gail's massive potential and never wanted her to regret not going for what she deserved. Holly knew Elaine loved her daughter, no matter how her actions came across. And Holly knew that as much as Gail's mother made her retreat instead of blossoming, that Gail still admired her. Maybe envied her too. Her strength, her accomplishments, the ease of which she seemed to do everything. And beneath all that, all the complications, Holly knew Gail loved her mom. Holly knew all of that was what made their relationship so complicated, so strained, so fierce. And that's why she knew that Gail very very much did _not _want her mother to die, no matter how many curses Gail might have sent Elaine's way since adolescence.

Holly held Gail tight as her sobs gave way to steady tears. Holly held her tight as Gail concentrated on regaining control of her breathing. Holly continued to rub her back, and stroke her hair as Gail's tears stopped and her breathing lightened.

Holly traced Gail's hairline, smiling down at her when Gail opened her eyes. "What do you say we get off the floor, huh?"

Gail sighed with a nod. She didn't want to be on the tile any longer but she didn't want to get up.

Holly waited for Gail to untangle herself before following her up to standing.

"I made you cookies," Holly offered, wrapping an arm around Gail's lower back, pulling her close.

"Chocolate chip?" Gail asked, picking at the back of Holly's sweater.

"Only the best for you, Peck."

Gail nuzzled her nose into the space between where Holly's collarbones would meet, "thank you, Holly."

"Always." Holly said it with a smile even though Gail's face was buried in her neck.

A moment later Gail stepped out of Holly's embrace, taking Holly's hand as she slowly started to make her way out of the bathroom.

"Hey," Holly held on to Gail's hand but bent down to pick up the forgotten glass of bourbon. She held it up questioningly.

Gail pulled a face and shook her head.

"Down the drain?" Holly asked.

"Down the drain," Gail confirmed.

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**A/N: **I hope you enjoyed it. Not super fluffy or happy go lucky. For those of you waiting on FHO, an undated is coming...but a surprise(!) chapter of Rapidamente Peck is coming first. Leave me a comment or a number for a good cleaning person.


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